


Coin Laundry

by littlesprouts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I have no idea how the American education system works lol, Lance and Keith are like 19??, M/M, also THIRST, also bg nyma, also bg shiro, also probably other vld characters as the fic progresses, contains mild swearing tho, optimally this is gonna be gay and fun, or in their early 20s?, right now it's mostly fluff, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesprouts/pseuds/littlesprouts
Summary: Keith gets all his clothes stolen at the laundromat. Life's like that sometimes.Lance is a cashier at H&M and barely raises a brow when Keith dumpes approximately 20 pairs of boxers on his desk.Unfortunately inspired by real events





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever voltron fic!

  
Keith pushed the glass door of the laundromat open with his hips, since his hands were full with three plastic bags which contained basically his entire wardrobe.

The door handle unpleasantly stabbed his side but he was glad nobody offered their help; it was a late Sunday evening and after dark laundromats basically turn into liminal spaces and Keith wasn't too eager to talk to any of the people temporarily inhabiting it.

He set down his bags and rubbed his hands where the plastic had cut into his flesh. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, he had enough money to wash and dry two loads of laundry. Problem was, he had three bags plus the backpack which held his underwear. Damn.

 

Ignoring the tired looks of the other people sitting on the narrow wooden benches waiting for their laundry to be done Keith somehow managed to stuff the contents of his bags into machines number 6 and 7.

Also ignoring the sign above his head that warned of over-filling the machines he stomped over to feed the automate at the other end of the room his coins.

He pushed the buttons for his machines and filled two plastic cups with the blue washing powder that came with the load.

The man next to the console shot him a toothless grin. Keith hurried back to the bench opposite his machines and turned them on.

Clattering they came to life.

Letting out a deep sigh Keith leaned back and looked around inconspicuously to check out the other people here with him. There weren't many, after all it was late and most people needed to get up early on a Monday morning. Keith was one of these people but his sleeping schedule was admittedly deeply flawed.  
There was an old woman in the corner, napping while clutching a hideous handbag with embroidered kittens. She looked ill under the yellow light and Keith suspected it didn't made his pale self look any better, either.

Which was a shame because right now a very attractive but very tired looking guy entered with two baskets full of jerseys. A coach, Keith thought, marvelling at the broad shoulders as the guy turned his back to him. Glancing down he noticed the prosthetic and the scars on his muscular arms.

What kind of sport did this guy do that got him so battered? Rugby? Basketball? Keith deemed his guesses unlikely but he didn't know enough about team sport to be sure.

The man sat down on a bench opposite to Keith, crossed his arms in front of his chest and closed his eyes which were circled by dark shadows. And also accentuated by perfectly winged eyeliner. Holy shit, turn down the gay Keith, you're in public.

 

A loud burp interrupted Keith's creepy staring. Heat flushed into his cheeks and he looked at the two men next to the door as the right one took another swig out of a brown bottle. The other fixating Keith with bloodshot eyes.

Keith directed his attention toward his sneakers.

The hot guy opposite of him started snoring softly but he didn't dare to look again.

 

A girl with her long blond hair in pigtails and a pearl necklace entering the room prompted the men by the door to whistle and murmur remarks which Keith couldn't understand but which made him angry anyway.

Unfazed the girl started to get her laundry out of one of the dryers; mostly Hollister sweaters like the one she was wearing and sweat pants with the word 'juicy' written across them in glittery stones.

The toothless man by the console nodded approvingly.

Keith balled his hands into fists.

The girl was done unloading the dryer and shouldered her blue Ikea bag. She stopped by the door to say something to the men, shooting them a glaring smile upon which the expression of the men fell. They looked down onto the dirty tiles and she left, still smiling. She held the door open for a homeless- looking guy wearing a tattered coat and brand new running shoes.

 

The man went straight up to him, stepped out of his shoes and put them in the washing machine next to Keith's.

Keith tried to breathe as flatly as possible as the now barefooted guy sat directly next to him.

 

The woman in the corner was awoken by the beeping of her dryer and crammed the load, which consisted of nothing but approximately 20 ties, into her bag. As she shuffled past Keith he could see the cats were actually lions, wearing huge pink bows around their necks.

The man next to him coughed wetly.

Keith grabbed his backpack, jumped up and hurried after the woman, past the men, out into the cold air.

He took a deep breath.

He decided to take a walk and come back in ten minutes to get his laundry.

Laundromats after dark were a perfect setting for an episode of The Twilight Zone, he thought and he made a mental note to rewatch the series sometime soon.

He buried his hands deep in his pockets and set off into the direction of the next streetlight.

 

A few minutes later he was lost in the maze of small streets. He cursed as he rushed past a swivel chair without a backrest that someone had dumped at the side of the road. It was a rather unglamorous part of town, even worse than the part Keith lived in. He made his way past houses covered with graffiti, the sidewalks were littered with old newspapers and take-out boxes. 

 

When he finally made it back to the laundromat he was out of breath, his shirt underneath his jacket was plastered to his back with sweat and he was definitely, _definitely_ gone for longer than ten minutes.

 

The laundromat was empty. Keith was glad the men were gone but at the same time the room felt even more unreal without people in it. He half ran to machine number 6 and ripped it open.

It was empty.

Keith stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the shiny surface of the stainless steel of the laundry drum.

Which he could see because his clothes were no longer inside.

He flung open machine number 7 to find nothing but cold metal to greet him.

 

Keith felt all the blood drain from his face.

Oh god.

Maybe these were the wrong machines? Maybe he remembered the numbers wrong? Maybe someone wanted to trick him and put his clothes in a different machine?

He opened every washing machine in the room and peered inside.

No such luck.

Maybe... maybe someone already put his laundry into one of the dryers?

He didn't even believe it himself but checked the dryers anyway.

He also checked in all of these plastic baskets on wheels and the bins.

Everything he found was a lonely sock on the floor behind one of the benches he thought he recognized as his own.

Even his plastic bags were gone.

 

Keith thought that he was probably the single unluckiest person on this godforsaken planet.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes, yes, they meet in this one

After standing motionless in the middle of the laundromat for several minutes, beads of cold sweat above his upper lip and eyes directed towards the tiled floor without really seeing anything, Keith simply went home.

He entered his shabby one-room apartment, locked the door behind him and went directly to bed.

This was a bad dream. In the morning he would wake up and everything would be fine.

 

The pale November light filtering through the threadbare curtains announced that it was morning and absolutely nothing was fine.

Keith was still in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He already missed two lessons but for once uni wasn't the biggest problem on his mind.

Literally all of his underwear was gone. His favorite black T-Shirt. He had procrastinated doing his laundry until the very last moment so basically all of his clothes had been in these machines. Meaning right now he only had the clothes he was wearing to his name. Plus that single sock he found.

Keith groaned and draped an arm over his eyes.

 

He splashed his face with cold water and stared grimly at his reflection in the mirror. Being unable to change out of the clothes he slept in he felt sticky and gross. He retrieved a small tin in which he kept his meager savings from the back of his empty wardrobe, stuffed it into his jacket pocket and slammed the front door shut behind him.

 

After rummaging through a few charity shops Keith was walking towards the city center with a huge bag full of T-Shirts, sweatpants and pullovers, some even in better condition than his old ones. And a little bit of money left.

Despite the monetary tightness Keith felt reluctant to buy underwear second-hand.

 

\------

 

'I can't believe this.'

'Well, what can I say? I'm a lucky guy!' Lance smirked and carefully put the piece of paper in his back pocket.

'You're at _work,_ ' his co-worker said sourly.

'What was I supposed to do? She basically _threw_ her number at me. Hard to resist _this,'_ modestly gesturing to all of him.

His coworker rolled her eyes and pulled the key out of her register next to Lance.

'I'm taking my break. Try not to have sex with any customers while I'm gone.'

 

\------

 

Keith entered the H&M and immediately felt uncomfortably warm.

He had never been here before but eventually he found what he was looking for.  
Holy shit, how could underwear be this expensive?? How could you possibly justify this price for this little fabric?

 

The cashier barely raised a brow when Keith dumped approximately 20 pairs of boxers onto the desk.

'Cash or card?'

 

\------

 

'Cash or card?' Lance asked.

The boy dug around in his pockets and pulled out a small tin that had once held chocolates but now housed a few crumpled dollars.

'Uhm, cash,' he murmured. 'Please,' he added.

Lance scanned the clothes and he could see the boy nervously watching the digits on the register display climb higher and higher.

Lance looked around; the guy with the pretty eyes was the only customer in sight right now.

'You know, you're lucky,' he started and the boy turned towards him and frowned. Holy shit.

His eyes were pretty, alright. And he knew several girls who would sell their soul for lashes like these. Hell, Lance would sell his soul and an extra tub of his Sephora rose face mask on top of it for lashes like these.

'Lucky?' the guy searched Lance's face for signs that he was making fun of him.  
'That would be a first, really.'

'Y-yeah,' Lance swallowed hard. 'We- uh, we got a discount on underwear and lingerie today!'

The guy's eyebrows shot up.

'Yes! Just a sec!' With sweaty hands lance scanned his card and hammered away at the keyboard, only mistyping twice.

The price dropped by the percentage of the employee discount.

'Oh, thanks,' the stranger let out a relieved breath and his pretty face relaxed. Why was his skin so nice? Didn't he have pores?? Goddamn it.

The guy paid and Lance put everything in a bag, handing it to him without asking for the extra 10 cents.

'Thanks!' the boy repeated and turned away from the counter.

Lance, do something you idiot!

'Uh,' he got out, intelligently.

The guy turned to face him once more, looking at him quizzically.

'Have a nice day!' Lance added.

'Yeah, you too,' the irritatingly attractive boy replied quietly and left the shop.

Damn it.

 

\------

 

With red ears Keith escaped the shop.

Not that he normally put a lot of effort in his appearance, but standing unshowered and in stained jeans he had worn for longer than he cared to admit  in front of such a cute guy definitely put a damper on his ego. Damn it.

Keith spent the next hour hauling his bags home while cursing profusely; cursing assholes who steal other peoples fucking underwear and cursing hot guys witnessing him buying new underwear and also cursing himself being awkward in front of hot guys witnessing him buying underwear.

 

Finally home he ripped the tags off a pair of boxers and put them atop a gray shirt and some sweatpants he had fished out of the other bag. Hesitating he thought that he should probably wash these clothes before putting them on but considering how that ended the last time he just grunted angrily and went to take a well needed shower.

Once clean Keith's mood got considerably better. He hummed while collecting his textbooks off the floor. He probably missed a lot of assignments at uni today, but he was gonna catch up on it. He was ahead of most of the coursework anyway. He looked for his backpack and found it thrown into a corner. Keith opened the zipper to put his books inside. Except he couldn't.  
Because it was jam-packed with dirty underwear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, an update on the following day! i'm on fire you guys
> 
> ALSO i'm dying to hear what you think? english is not my first language and i'm struggling a bit with prepositions and also also is the pov change too confusing??  
> i'd love it if you'd take the time to comment and give me some feedback!!!!
> 
> SEE YOU NEXT UPDATE FOLKS


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, 2016 is finally over and we're still here!  
> and what better way to start into this new year than with reading (and for me: writing) gay fanfiction?  
> queue lots of stammering and second-hand embarrassment ALSO many pov changes, watch out

Keith passed the store for the fifth time.  
He had already been inside -for approximately 8 seconds, which was about the time it took him to recognize the obnoxiously good-looking guy behind the counter, spin on his heel and storm out again.

Given his financial situation he should return the new underwear -since his old one didn't actually get stolen. Which was technically a good thing but Keith still wanted to facepalm every time he thought about it.

He got close to the entrance yet again. Oh, damn it all to hell.

 

\------

 

I should have said something, Lance thought. Asked for his number, given him mine, _anything_.   
He had be thinking about that particular customer since said customer stepped in front of his counter yesterday afternoon and Lance was wallowing in self-pity since. But now it was too late, he had missed his chance, he would never see this guy again- except he stepped into the shop in this exact moment.

'Oh no, looks like a return... do you mind taking this one?' Nyma asked from very far away.

'Lance?' her face appeared in his field of view.

'Huh?'

'You should close your mouth, it looks a bit dumb,' she cocked her head and frowned at him.

'I was just saying tha-'

'Uh-yeah! Sure I'll take over!' he interrupted her in a painfully high-pitched voice.

She looked really confused. Especially since Lance was probably as red as the companies logo right now.

'No problem!' he added, somehow unable to lower his voice. He cleared his throat.

'Alright. Thanks,' Nyma said with a last look at Lance and hurried away in direction of the changing rooms.

'Oh boy,' Lance muttered to himself under his breath and watched the hot guy bridge the last meters to his register.

 

\------

 

'Uhm, hello,' Keith stepped in front of the counter. He was initially headed for the blond girl on the other register to spare himself at least _some_ of the embarrassment but just as he got closer she left. This was just his luck, he figured.

So now he was opposite the boy who flashed a smile at him that put every single toothpaste commercial Keith had ever seen to shame.

'I-uhm. I would like to give these back. To-ehhr, to return them I mean,' his cheecks burned and he could almost _feel_ the red splotched creeping up on his neck.

The cashier just kept smiling, seemingly composed. Bless this guy. Or maybe, and this was in fact very possible, he didn't even recognize Keith. In which case, screw this guy.

'Sure! I'll just need the receipt!' he relentlessly threw his smile at Keith.

Who went stiff at his words.

'Uhm.'

The guy raised an eyebrow higher than Keith had thought physically possible, but still smiling.

'I-um don't have it with me right now,' Keith wheezed.

'Oh-uhh well,' the cashier's smile fell. Keith could have sworn the guy blushed, but that was probably a trick of the light.

'I will need the receipt to reverse the transaction,' he said, looking down at the counter.

'I'm very sorry!' the guy added and to Keith's surprise he sounded it.

'Did-did you already threw it away?' he blurted out, now definitely blushing. Probably because Keith made him uncomfortable, he thought.

'I mean, if you still have it somewhere you could, uhm, you could just come back?' he suggested and lifted his face to look at Keith again, smiling weakly.

Keith's knees turned to jelly.

'Uhm.' he repeated.

Was this guys skin glowing? Or was his vision starting to blur? He was terribly hot and sweaty right now, maybe he was going to pass out? Oh god, that's just what he needed.

'I-i'm gonna look for it?' it came out like more of a question.

'Ye-heah, so, uhm, thankyouverymuch,' he stammered and grabbed at the plastic bag.

'Oh! Ehm, can I-uhm, I mean-' the poor cashier stuttered, obviously trying hard to maintain his composure. He looked at Keith with wide, very blue eyes. Really very, _very_ blue eyes.

Keith snapped out of his not very heterosexual thoughts.

'Bye!' he basically yelled and ran out of the store.

 

Keith stomped home, the shopping bag bumping against his leg. His breath turned into white clouds in the winter air as he let out small angry huffs.  
How could one single person bee this awkward, he thought. This kind of awkwardness could've easily been enough for two Keiths.

 

Keith didn't really know why he went back.

Normal people probably had something in their brains stopping them from doing the same dumb thing over and over again, limiting the embarrassment one person could experience; but Keith obviously didn't have such a thing because if he did he wouldn't be here.

 

\------

 

Lance didn't think the guy was gonna come back.

When he saw that mop of unruly black hair entering the store (had he been watching the entrance? Definitely Not) he was surprised the universe decided to give him another chance.

The guy went straight to his counter this time, flung the bag, which looked kind of battered by now, on the counter and tossed the crumpled receipt on top of it. Rethinking, he reached for the paper again and tried to smooth it down before giving up and sliding it all over to him with a resigned sigh.

Lance smiled at him apologetically. He scanned the receipt -and froze.

Honestly, fuck the universe.

 

\------

 

The cashier stopped dead in his tracks. Scanner still in his hand and suspended in mid-air he stared at the register in obvious horror.

'Is...there a problem?' Keith asked.

_Is there ever not one with you, Keith? Be honest with yourself._

The guy didn't answer. Keith was pretty sure he could see sweat on his forehead.

'Uhm...hello?' he tried again, weakly.

He resisted the urge to wave his hand in front of the guys face because he seemed really out of it.

'I,' the cashier finally moved and sucked in a deep breath.

'I'm really sorry. But... _discounted articles can't be returned_.'

 

\------

 

This seemed like a good day to die, Lance thought.

His legs were shaky.

This hot guy was probably gonna kill him.

 

\------

 

Keith blinked.

He blinked again and then a third time for good measure but the situation didn't change. Except maybe for the guy behind the counter who seemed to turn a slightly darker shade of red.

Keith felt something bubble up inside him. It started right behind his navel, vibrated through his stomach and -burst out of him in gales of laughter.

This was just his luck. This was just -the whole story was incredible. Hilarious.

Keith was laughing so hard he had to clutch the counter for support. Through half-closed eyes he looked at the cashier who still hadn't moved.

'I cannot believe...this is-' Keith tried to press out between bursts of laughter. He grinned at the boy who was somehow under the impression that this was his fault and not a cruel joke by the universe which seemed to target Keith in particular.

He met his eyes. The corners of his mouth began to twitch. The guy started giggling which was probably the most adorable sound Keith had ever heard. It sounded like water.

The giggle turned into full blown laughter. Okay, maybe like a pigeon choking on water.

And then they were both standing buckled over in the middle of this godforsaken H&M, the cashier clutching his stomach and Keith wheezing and teary-eyed.

'Oh. My god.' he snickered.

'So.. sor-ry,' the boy tried to bring his breathing back to normal, probably only now remembering that this was his workplace.

He straightened his back.

'Listen, I know you just wanted your money back but...' he looked suddenly shy.

'...maybe I can make up for it?'

'You mean with a gift card?' Keith asked hopefully.

'Actually, I was more thinking of...taking you out for coffee?'

'Oh.' Keith deadpanned.

The gears in his mind came to a halt.

'I mean,' the guy had just started to recover from his laughing fit but Keith saw the redness spread back into his face.

'If this sounds stupid, because it probably is-'

'Sounds fine.' Keith finally managed to say.

'Seriously?' the guy shot back incredulously, but then quickly regaining his composure.

'I mean. Yeah! Great! How about... Friday? In front of the shop? I get off at two.'

Keith mirrored the guys smile.

A date. _He had a date._

 

\------

 

After the guy left the store and his high ebbed away Lance's brain went straight into panic mode.   
Holy shit he had a date. Holy shit he had a date with this incredibly cute guy.

Maybe this was a good day to die after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so here's the dealio folks; I have many more ideas for this fic but not quite the time nor the energy to put them down into words.  
> So I'm going to mark this story as 'completed' -at least for now.  
> I hope you enjoyed the ride and I hope to see you all again.  
> Comments are always appreciated.  
> Much love.
> 
> UPDATE!!!!  
> It's exam season and honestly, i put the pro in procrastination. So I may have written another chapter instead of studying??? Right now I edited the third chapter a bit and I'm gonna post a new one in the next coupla days! So stay tuned for food poisoning and awkward dates ~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BABY
> 
> this is a lance chapter you guys  
> i'm making up for the second-hand embarrassment in the last chapter(s) with some quality friend time and disgusting food
> 
> introducing hunk and pidge!!!

After his shift Lance left the store in a kind of trance. He biked home paying almost no attention to traffic so it was a miracle he got home without getting hit by a car. He flung himself onto his bed and burrowed his face in his pillows. He recently invested in a silk pillowcase because it didn't rough up his hair during the night. Taking a deep breath he pressed his cheek against the cool fabric.

_A date._

Jeez, he needed a distraction or else he was going to plan and overanalyze the whole thing. Get a grip, Lance. _You've been on dates before._

His phone buzzed.

 

**(14:46) come over and bring food that can be blended into mush**

Pidge. Perfect timing.

 _(14:46) do I dare to ask?_ He typed back.

**(14:47) yk how hunks mom sends him kitchen appliances whenever she thinks hes not eating enough**

_(14:47) she's still doing that? sweet_

_(14:47) waddaya got_

**(14:48) a blender**

_(14:48) on my way_

 

“Oh my god Hunk, is that a real KitchenAid one??” Lance's jaw dropped at the beauty of the retro style blender. It was mint green.  
The contents of the mixing container were a very unappetising colour, though.

“What's that brown stuff?” he asked.

“We call it 'Mellow Yellow'. Credit for the name goes to Hunk. It's custard, banana, yellow skittles, cornflakes and... uh... Hunk?”

“Butter. Oh, and some curry powder.”

“Yeah, dunno why it turned brown since we only put yellow stuff in it.”

“How does it taste?”

“Pretty much how it looks.”

 

They spent the entire afternoon abusing their new-found blending powers.

Sometimes they'd produce normal mixtures, like one consisting of the leftover bananas that didn't end up in the 'Mellow Yellow', whipped cream and a half-eaten and slightly molten no-brand Snickers Lance produced from his pocket. But they also blended random ingredients they found in the kitchen; mostly stuff from the fridge that was close to expiration since Hunk had a thing against wasting good food.

 

“What am I supposed to do with this half a can of corn? Also, guys, how long has this been open?” Lance asked Pidge.

“Dunno. Puree it.”

Hunk was rummaging through the fridge and held up a Tupperware box.

“How about the last piece of camembert?”

“Pu-ree it!” Lance sung and the cheese joined the corn.

“The rest of this strawberry jam? It's barely enough for a single piece of toast.”

“You know what I'm gonna say.”

“Also, throw some toast in there as well.” Pidge suggested. They sat on the table spraying whipped cream directly into their mouth.

“Toasted or not?”

“Toasted of course. We're not animals, Lance.”

 

 

“It's like a breakfast smoothie of some sort. Or, you know, it would be minus the corn.” Lance mused, turning the thick mix in his hands.

They were sat on the kitchen floor, their backs leaned against the cabinets and the blender in front of them.

“A breakfast smoothie with a twist.” Hunk suggested.

“But cornflakes are made from corn and you have those for breakfast.” Pidge chimed in.

“True.”

“What are you having, Hunk?” Lance eyed the swamp-green substance.

“Yesterday's dinner.”

“Hm, resourceful.” Lance complimented.

“Move over,” Pidge said, elbowing Lance in the side.

“I wanna puree some pancakes and see if they turn back into batter.”

 

In an unexpected turn of events they all ended up sick and moved to Hunk's room since he had the biggest bed.

“I'm siiiiick.” Lance announced, his arm draped over his eyes.

“Tell me about it, stud.”

“Pidge don't drag Grease into this. This film is good and pure.”

“In the end they _fly away in a car_.”

“It was the seventies! Those were different times. Also, change of subject please.” Lance groaned.

“Hey Lance, how's work?” Hunk complied. Bless this guy. Unfortunately not really the subject Lance was hoping for.

“You mean Retail Hell?”

“Lance seriously, why don't you quit?”

“I'm going to quit my job when I can live comfortably for the rest of my life. If I'd quit my job right now I could live comfortably for the rest of my life as long as I die before Wednesday.”

Hunk reached over to pat his arm sympathetically.

“Although, one good thing happened at work today.”

Lance had intended only to tell Hunk about the hot guy since he was pretty sure Pidge didn't care anyway and would make sarcastic remarks at most. He had managed to put his anxiety aside until now, but as soon as he relaxed it came back. He needed to tell it to his friends or else he would end up obsessing about it tonight instead of sleeping. And okay, he wanted to brag a little about it, too.

Hunk made an encouraging sound to indicate he was listening.

“You know, since I got a date out of it and stuff-”

Hunk sat up quickly and set off a volley of protest from Pidge since they had been falling asleep on his chest.

 

“...and so we're gonna go out for coffee on Friday.” Lance closed his story.

“He's gonna pick you up from work? That's kinda cute.” Hunk said.

Lance was staring at the ceiling, smiling. Talking to Hunk had helped, the anxiety had subsided and now he was mostly excited.

Hunk said something but Lance was in thoughts and didn't quite hear him.

“Huh?” he asked.

“I was saying, what's his name?”

_Oh._

“Uhm.”

Yeah, well, it was nice while it lasted. Welcome back anxiety.

_How did he not ask for his name?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm kinda self-conscious about writing dialogue -so I wrote this chapter which heavily relies on dialogue to challenge (read: torture) myself! 
> 
> also I'm finding lance a much more difficult character to grasp than, say, pidge or hunk. I know he's mostly written as this smooth and carefree dude but in the light of season 2 I think he's more of a worrier under all this confidence? as I said, still trying to get a feel for him, so this chapter was all lance.  
> next chapter is probably gonna be the date???? i mean i don't plan these out you guys  
> I'm like, winging it lol
> 
> as always, feedback is highly appreciated!  
> please take a few seconds to comment, it means a lot to me and helps to falsly inflate my ego


End file.
